


Briar Rose

by Udunie



Series: Roll-A-Porn [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Genderswap, Lactation, Pregnancy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sleeping Beauty - Freeform, Sleeping Beauty Elements, Somnophilia, Underage Sex, defloration, not the Disney kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 06:38:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14889521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udunie/pseuds/Udunie
Summary: Deucalion had always been pragmatic, he’d learned to look at things the way they were, to find the angle from where they would be useful to him. He didn’t romanticize objects or people.But the girl laying on the bed in the room with the rose was the most beautiful, perfect creature he’d ever laid eyes on.





	Briar Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Soooo this is my latest Roll-a-Porn!   
> I got:  
> d4 - 2 - non-con  
> d6 - 5 - underage  
> d8 - 5 - Deucalion  
> d12 - 3 - gender-bender  
> d20 - 15 - lactation
> 
> Originally, I wanted to go in a completely different direction with this, but then... well. This happened.  
> for the record, this is not the disney version lol

Deucalion stopped his horse by a stream, letting him drink his fill. They’d been riding for an hour now on this unfamiliar, abandoned land that was now his, as he deserved. Land to match his title, finally, but he couldn’t help suspecting the future was still perilous.

The plague left the country devoid of people, the peasants could barely keep up with the crops and the livestock. Food was expensive and land was cheap, making his inheritance impressive, but momentarily almost worthless.

He wasn’t bothered though. His line of the family never had anything, other than a well sounding name and a respectable title, and he was set on changing that. It would take time, but he wasn’t a young man anymore, eager to rush into the future. He could wait.

But first, he had to survey the estate, see if there was anything he could make easy money on to tide him over until the peasants recovered enough to turn a profit.

He mounted again, his sword clanking against the ring of rusty, ancient keys on his belt. The old man at the castle - one of only half a dozen servants to survive - told him there was an old villa hidden somewhere on the edge of the woods. Maybe it held some treasures for him.

He rode through an abandoned village. There were only two chimneys smoking, but he could hear a babe crying behind one of the closed doors, proving that his serfs were still breeding. Good. 

It took him almost an hour to reach the forest. It used to be royal hunting grounds, given to a great-great-great uncle by his cousin, the king. Deucalion couldn’t see sign of a villa anywhere, but he kept on. Dusk was setting in and he hoped to find at least a hunting lodge to spend the night in.

The woods looked less than inviting, but the setting sun cutting between the trunks of the trees fell on something that reflected it back to him. It had to be man made, and he unmounted to explore whatever it was. 

To his shock, he reached a clearing of sorts, the edge of it marked by a ruined fountain, listing to the side as the roots of the trees pushed it out of place. It was filled with rainwater, mirroring his face back at him. It looked like this used to be a garden once, but the forest grew around it, and into it, hiding the grounds from view.

The villa wasn’t really a villa, it was a miniature castle, with turrets and arched windows, telling of a different time. The walls looked sturdy enough, though they were run over by roses gone wild. They must have been planted along the building, but now it appeared almost that they were consuming it.

Deucalion felt himself fill with a strange sort of excitement. It’s been some years since he was a young boy, hoping for adventure, but this place was like the pages of a storybook came to life.

The large oak doors were locked, a heart-shaped, rusty padlock blocking his way, the chain thick with thorny vines. He unbuckled the keyring from his belt, and tried the biggest one. It fit, but he couldn’t turn it, no matter how hard he tried, the mechanics inside eaten away by age.

In the end, he had to resort to cutting it all away with his sword, vines and iron and all.

To his surprise, the insides were clean, the air smelling fresh, despite his certainty that nobody had been inside the walls for at least a century. 

Deucalion looked around, his brain already calculating. There were some crystal vases, a silver tray, some paintings that looked old enough to sell for good money with a nice story to go with them. Good. He was a bit shocked that the place haven’t been robbed - standing abandoned like this for so long - but he decided to take his luck where he found it.

He tried the first step leading upstairs, checking to see that the termite didn’t get to it, but it felt solid under his foot, there wasn’t even a scratch on the polish. He made his way up, finding a corridor leading left and right, the right side locked with another door, carved with roses.

In his experience, only valuables were under lock and key, so he headed to that direction, trying his second key. It was smaller than the first, and - thankfully - this one took no effort to open. The wings of the door swung open. There were only four doors on the corridor, the walls covered with paintings, a small table to the side, with dried roses still in an elegant vase, red as blood.

Three of the doors were ajar, and he looked inside every one of them. A small washroom and two bedrooms, richly decorated and untouched.

The fourth door was locked.

Deucalion could feel nerves come upon him as he looked at the rose carved into the door. Whatever mysteries this strange place held, he knew they were in there.

The last key was a small one. This hadn’t rusted even a bit, looking shiny and new enough that he’d doubted it belonged with the others when he received the keyring.

It fit the door, and he found himself holding his breath as he turned it.

***

Deucalion had always been pragmatic, he’d learned to look at things the way they were, to find the angle from where they would be useful to him. He didn’t romanticize objects or people.

But the girl laying on the bed in the room with the rose was the most beautiful, perfect creature he’d ever laid eyes on. She had long, brown hair fanned out on the pillows around her face. Her skin was pale, dotted with birthmarks that were dark and lovely in comparison. She had a sweet, pointy chin and an upturned nose that made her absolutely endearing. Her pink mouth looked like a promise.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Her clothes looked fine but out of fashion, pink and pale yellow and gold thread, but Deucalion - for the first time - cared not about their value.

He walked to the bed, like he was in a daze, his fingers itching to reach out, to touch her. His heart was beating fast, and he couldn’t really explain it. He liked women who were bigger, blessed with bosoms and bottoms in abundance, women who were experienced and  _ ready _ . 

She was nothing of the sort, she was slim, her frame almost boyish. Fifteen, if that. Just on the verge of becoming a real woman.

Deucalion sat on the very edge of the bed, careful not to disturb her. She was so still. If not for the rise and fall of her chest, he would have taken her for dead, though her skin was warm when he touched her, tracing a finger down the side of her lovely face. But her eyes did not open. She did not stir. Not even when he brushed her hair to the side to see her better.

He palmed her cheek, brushed his thumb against those long, dark lashes. She looked like a princess from a fable, untouched by time, dreaming the dreams of innocence.

Deucalion let his rough palm wander down her cheek, touching her long, pale throat, feeling her pulse under her delicate skin. 

She did not stir. 

Her dress was rich, vibrant velvet, fastened at the front, and he couldn’t explain the way his fingers shook as he undid the small buttons, reverently. Slowly.

Her skin was white and soft under his palm as he slid his hand along it, grabbing a small, budding tit and squezing it. Gently first, almost afraid, then harder. She was barely a palmful, trapped on the verge of maturing, but still, he could feel her nipple hardening as he flicked it.

He wanted her like nothing he ever wanted before.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was tearing at her dress, sending tiny golden buttons flying. He would pick them up later, but now he needed the prize they protected for god knows how long.

It was almost hard to breath when he could finally look at all of her. His sweet, rose princess was all slim, boney hips and faultless, beautiful long legs.

The valley between her legs called to him, her mound almost completely bare, with only a whisper of soft hair hiding in the shadows. 

Deucalion smoothed his hands up the outside of her thighs, enjoying the warmth of her skin as he leaned down, smelling her cunt, her scent almost as sweet as a flower. For a second, he just let himself enjoy it, rubbing his face over her little hill, basking in it.

But his blood was calling, and he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

He undid his pants to free his aching cock, not even bothering to take them off, and pushed her thighs apart. 

Her pussy was beautiful, pink and pale. He parted her with his thumbs to reveal her tiny opening... He wasn’t even sure he would fit, but he would damn well try. Deucalion rubbed her, dipping just the tip of a finger into her hole, swearing under his breath from the way she clinged to him.

He spit at her parted lips, massaging in the moisture, rough fingers looking barbarian as he coaxed her open. Deucalion was sweating by the time he managed to work a finger into her sweet entrance, and then he couldn’t help but smile as he felt her finally getting wet, slicking up his way in a soundless invitation.

His cock looked huge against her cute little cunt, but the thought of ruining her just riled him up. Deucalion took a deep breath and started pushing in, clenching his teeth as the fat head of his cock finally popped into her. God, she was so fucking tight.

He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t be gentle, and it wasn’t like she cared. She was his, and he would take as he pleased.

Bottoming out felt like salvation, his cock gripped strong in her velvety insides and in that second he knew he could never get enough of her, he could never find completion in another woman. It was only her now; only her shallow, tight little pussy, only the mouth of her womb kissing the head of his cock every time he thrust into her.

Maybe if she was awake, he would have been able to hold himself back. Maybe he could have been gentler. But then again, if she was awake, he thought he wouldn’t have enjoyed her quite this much, so he let himself go.

Deucalion leaned over her, bracing himself on his elbow by her head, his other hand busy gripping her soft little tit, pressing bruises into her spotless skin. His hips slapped forward with enough force to jostle her body, and soon the room was filled with the sounds of his grunts and the wet quelch of her cunt as Deucalion stirred her pussy up.

He buried his teeth in her shoulder when he came, almost hard enough to break the skin as he emptied into her, filling her up, feeling his seed bubble out along his cock.

Deucalion rested for a few heartbeats, head pillowed beside hers, feeling the covers getting slowly soaked by their juices where they were still connected. That wouldn’t do. He wanted to own her completely, he wanted her to be  _ marked  _ by him.

He looked around, spotting a long, amphora shaped perfume vial on the night table beside the bed and he grabbed for it, getting back on his knees.

Her cunt wasn’t as pretty and pure now. Her lips were reddened where she was pried open by his fat cock, rubbed rough by the coarse hair at the root of his dick, smeared with slick and come. Ruined.

The thought made Deucalion smile. Yes. This was his princess, his Rose, and he would make sure nobody mistook her for a virgin again.

He pulled out, shivering at the feeling of her walls dragging against his cock and as soon as he was out he pushed the vial into her, plugging up her wet little pussy and trapping his come inside.

Absentmindedly, he rubbed his thumb over her hardened button roughly, and then he barked out a laugh when she twitched, her body tensing hard enough that she almost pushed the vial out of her cunt. It looked like his sweet Princess Rose enjoyed things just as much as he did.

He got up reluctantly, wishing he could have her again, but too spent for the moment. But his head was clearer now. He had more important things to do than take his pleasure.

***

The castle of the roses was a gold mine - almost literally. Deucalion spent the next three days carting its treasures home without telling anyone where he found them. Silver cutlery, paintings, jewelry, even some pieces of gold in a currency he didn’t recognize anymore, but would serve him well melted down.

And every day, he spent an hour or two with his Princess Rose. She remained oblivious to the world, oblivious to the way Deucalion took her cunt again and again, stuffing her full with the vial, or with the handle of a intricate silver brush he found, or a long necklace of jade beads as big as a pear after he was done.

He had a plan, and that plan included going to France where the real money was. Or maybe Spain. The court there would eat up the treasures he found, but he imagined it would take a few months to pawn off everything and get the funds to really build up his estate.

Unfortunately, that meant leaving her for a while, and he planned to enjoy every inch of her body before that.

So he took her mouth too, her sweet, pink lips stretched around his cock beautifully, and he found her even more charming with her face smeared with his come, splashed on her lashes in tiny droplets.

Then he turned her on her side, lay behind her and slicked his cock with spit before fucking into her pert little ass, the grip of it almost matching her cunt. Deucalion filled her up there too, grunted into her neck, and bit at her tits after until she was purple with the marks of his teeth.

He left her like that, wishing that he could be back before her bruises healed.

***

It took him almost nine months to find his way home again, and the only consolation he had was that this time, he returned as a rich man. As he should always had been. Despite the pleasures of the whores in Spain and the sluts in Paris, all he could think about was his Princess Rose, waiting impatiently in her slumber for his cock to breach her pussy again. 

And he didn’t come alone. Deucalion picked Morrell up in Paris, found her running from charges of witchcraft. Just what he needed. She was smart and resourceful, and looked like someone who could appreciate a good deal. So Deucalion offered her an out, a way to lay low for however long she needed. All she had to do in exchange was look after his Rose and Morell was all too happy to agree.

Deucalion gave her directions to the castle of roses as soon as they were back. As much as he was itching to get to his sweet Princess, first he had business to attend to.

It took him until next morning to arrive at his secret little empire, and he found Morell outside, fighting with the roses, trying to cut them back for easier access. As soon as she saw him her eyes twinkled, her lips pulled into a enigmatic smile.

“Come, my lord,” she said, leading him inside and up the stairs. “You need to see your wife.”

“My wife?” Deucalion asked with a snort. He noticed that Morrell already moved into one of the spare rooms, the one right next to his Rose’s.

“Well,” she said, laughing. “You took her girlhood, spent her dowrey and put a babe in her, it’s only fair,” she said, opening the door for him.

Deucalion stood there frozen for a moment, looking at his sweet Princess.

She changed. Oh, she was still pretty and slim and pale, but now her belly was huge and heavy and round with the fruit of their labor. And her tits? Oh, lord. They were not huge, but they grew full, her nipples dark and hard and inviting even from the distance.

He never imagined she could get more perfect than she had been before, but he stood corrected, feeling his chest fill with pride at the sight of seeing her heavy with their child.

He rushed to her, sitting at the edge of her bed, running her hand over her amazing, big belly and smiling as he felt his child kick inside her.

“You have a week, maybe, before she gives birth,” she said. “I will take care of it for you, my lord.”

Deucalion nodded his head mutely, leaning down and pulling one of her fat nipples into his mouth, sucking on it hard until he felt her sweet milk drip against his tongue. He moaned around it, pulling back. He couldn’t believe he had a whole week to drink her up.

It took him a second to notice the white silk bandage around one of her fingers.

“What happened?” he asked, frowning. Morrell grinned from the door.

“There’s a splinter under her fingernail,” she explained. “Should it dislodge, she will come awake, and I thought you would want to keep her like this for a little longer.”

Deucalion smiled, reaching between her legs and pushing two fingers into her soft, welcoming cunt.

For a little while longer.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked it!
> 
> You can find me at udunie.tumblr.com


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